Dewi fata Bellefonte, Pa., May 24, 1912. LEARNING HOW. “lI am especially anxious (or Harold to come,” read Harold's mother. “Dor- othy has never had any one to play with except her father and me, and she doesn’t know how to play with children of her own age. A more angelic child never breathed and Dick is eager to see what a bit of well di- rected spice will do for her. He al- ways has felt that she should have been born a boy, you know. So come soon.” It was with timid obedience to her parents’ urgent directions that Dor- othy, aged four, went forward two weeks later and gravely gave her Cous- in Harold a welcoming kiss, saying in slow and awestruck tones: “You can play with my toys and the attic is all ready.” “Well, come on!” shouted Harold. | Then, pulling her ruthlessly by the hand, he started up the broad stair way for the stories above. “The dears!” chimed the mothers in unison. Then the two settled down to discuss the various merits of their offspring, wondering how soon they might be called upon to explain to Dorothy just what it was that Har- old meant by his boyish actions. But there was no sudden summons to the attic. Two hours later they crept upstairs to call the children to luncheon and to note Dorothy's prog- ress. Harold was directing operations with the air of a general. Dorothy sat near by, her angelic eyes blazing with ex- citement, shearing wildly her best doll's hair. About her lay several | dolls of various sizes, mercilessly bar- bered, and on the floor were strewn | the curls that had once graced the bisque heads. | It was not this sight that made her | mother start forward with a cry of terror and catch up her child in a fe- | ver of amazement. Dorothy's curls had evidently been the first to fall. , They lay intermingled with the | tangled floss upon the floor. “He's been teaching me to play, | mother,” cried Doruthy as she strug- | gled free. “We're barbers, and he cut off my hair like his and we've cut | the dolls’ hair, too, when they had | any.” During luncheon both children were | gravely admonished and though rest- less to a marked degree they promised solemnly not to use the scissors and not to throw anything—Harold having suggested an imitation of an apart- | ment buliding fire that he had wit- | nessed where all the furniture had been thrown from the upper floors. . Further, they promised not to pound anything, and not to paint anything but their own paint books. i Then with a sigh from Dorothy's | mother and a tender smooth to Dor- | othy’'s shorn head, the children were | allowed to seek their own amuse- ' ment once more. “Harold doesn’t mean to be destruc- tive,” fis mother said sadly, but a bit proudly as well. “And he does obey. We can trust them now that they have our restrictions to go by. It is his inventive genius for something new to do. He never played barber be- fore in his life. It must have been | because his father had his hair | trimmed while | was buying my new | hat yesterday—a perfect dream, Ma- | rion! A most extravagant willow plume and a few gold rose buds—" “But such an investment, dear!” an- | swered her sister. “Mme. Renova has used my white plume, dyed green, on a high small toque.” | With that the subject of fashions | was launched for the afternoon. Some hours later, because of the ! silence in the attic, they went in search of the cherubs. They were not ' in the attic, nor in the nursery nor ! yet in mother’s room. But there they ' found evidences of pilfering that sent terror to the mothers’ hearts and set them to calling loudly for their dar- lings. Dorothy had rifled her mother's | hat box. The tissue paper coverings and the box lid were strewn about, ' but the hat was gone. From the guest room the cherubs | answered eagerly and innocently, “We're playing milliner’s shop,” called Dorothy's high treble, an eerie ' gleam in her usually soft eyes. “Har- old knows such lots of plays and I'm | learning like you sald to. And we're going to stuff some dolls’ pillows with | these.” i On the bed lay the two hats, shorn of all that had made them models of | the season's most perfect designs. Up | right on each stood a single wiry stick from which all the fibers of a once | fovely plume had been stripped. On | ‘he white counterpane lay a heaped | 1p mass of green and rose. | “It's some like excelsior, only soft- | er,” shouted Harold, “and in pillows | it will be fine.” Then, seeing the tragedy that lay in his mother’s eyes, he scrambled to her | side, saying eagerly: “We didn’t cut | or throw or pound or paint, mother—" : The rest was drowned in the slam- | ming door on the retiring figures of Dorothy and Dorothy’s mother. Simple Enough. “I don't know how to make con- | versation when in society.” i “It's simple enough. When you're with automobile people you talk auto- mobile, and when you're with bridge people you talk bridge.” : —Don't read an out-of-date paper. Get all the news in the WATCHMAN. | to do's’ which were beaten out during | two by four gave me eighty-eight ror | therefore 60 by 8S gave me 5.280 | feet we were traveling to the minute | the house, ; Is a straight line. . proportion of this cut out inch.—Edgzn | studied and selected with the greates: , cides the kind of tree. Much mor. | ehair who would not think of puttin: . that amount into a tree.—Kansus in | fireproof buildings and he 18 a fire in : surance agent.” Cleveland Plain Den: | er. you think poets have to be born? Th: : kept the law.—John Miiton. * BEETLE BITS. Cook Learned the Secret of Their Util- ity From an Insect. Ransom Cook was little known out- side of the village of Saratoga, where ' he lived, but he gained a small fortune from a carpenter's bit, Invented by him, which has been in common use for years. This device has two lips, protriding slightly above the edge and opposite each other. Simplicity itself, but the world never had such a bit until Cook made it, and an insect taught him how to do it. Sit : ting down on a recently felled pine tree one day outside Saratoga. he heard the crunch, crunch of something inside the log. Curious, he investigated and saw | that an insect of the bettle family was boring into the wood at one end of the prostrate tree. And the hole was lengthwise. Moreover, it was perfect | ly smooth. Cook had no bits In his kit | that would wake such a hole withou: slivering the Interior so that it would be rough. Procuring an ax, he chop- ' ped off the end of the log where the ! insect had been working, split the sec: tion and. capturing the beetle, took it home and examined it under a micro scope. Then the secret of the insect's ability to bore smooth horizontal holes in any kind of wood was revealed The beetle was provided with power | ful nippers on either side of Its jaws. and they operated in precisely the same manner as do the small blades of the bits which he immediately invent: ' ed, patented and put on the market. | “Beetle bits" were the foundation of his fortune.—New York Press. ! SPEED OF A TRAIN. You Can Figure It Out From the Clicks | of the Rail Joints. If any reader wishes, when on a long ' raflway journey, to test the speed ut which the train is traveling he might | ! perhaps do worse than follow the | method suggested by “Nothing to Do" | “We were coming down from Lon don to Holyhead,” he says, “and the wheels flying over the rails beat out to my brain the rhythmic tune ‘Nothin: to do, nothing to do,’ as they went over the joints in the rails. 1 took out my watch and with the aid of the second hand counted the number of ‘nothing one-quarter of a minute. I found tha: twenty-two was the number. Twenty one minute. The rails of the L. and N. W. rallway are sixty feet long: which was, of course. the number ot Thus | was able to tell my traveling companion, with some degree of accu racy, that at that time we were trave: ing at a mile a minute. “Any reader can do this. All that ix | | necessary Is to find out beforehand the length of the rails and after that te watch your watch.” —London Answers She Rapped Bismarck, Bismarck was no favorite with wom | 1 { i en, least of all with clever women wh | dared to think for themselves and im agine that they could fathom question. | of state. He was never tired of snub: | bing strong minded Indies, putting | , them down and stamping on them | One day he paid a visit to the Russian | embassy at Berlin, where he behaved as usual, flouting even the mistress ot | the Countess Schouvalofl herself. He took his leave at length to the relief of everybody, and pres ently the family mastiff was neara | ; barking at the great man as he passed i through the courtyard. [Immediate . the countess ran to the open window | | and Bismarck beard her voice, sayin: | to him in a tone of gentle entreat) | “Oh, please, M. le Chancelier, don’t bit my dog.” i Course of the Sun. It is not known whether the sun I~ moving around another as a center ! All probabilities are against the iden Since the Invention of the telescoy- and micrometer no turning to the right or left has been detected. It. ~« far as known, seems to be movin: along on a straight line. But analog) is against this also. Millions of oti suns attract ours, and the path beyond a doubt bends this way and that. like that of a bee In a swarm, but th curvature cannot be noticed. Draw = circle ten miles in diameter, cut ou one inch. and you would say the men ‘The sun's path trav ersed during the last 300 years ut twelve miles per second is about in th Lucien Larkin in New York American Select Trees With Care. Trees for street and lawn should be care. They are for life, often for sev eral generations, yet a dollar often dv thought and time are given to the =» lection of an easy chair. Many persons will willingly spend $30 or $40 ror dustrialist. A Bad Outlook. “No. | can't get up enough courags to ask old Patterson for his daughter “And why not?" “Because I'm a builder of absolute: She Knew, Miss Gusher—-Oh, please tell me! [Co Poet's Wife—Yes, borne with.—Har per's Bazar Men of most renowned virtue have sometimes by transgressing most truly ' questioner and addressing the court, | of baldness. But Dr. Gottheil in an his characteristic and expressive ances all the more striking. or two. One day he had a misunder- | standing with one of his tenants, in the course of which the tenant gave him a sound thrashing. The same aft- ernoon the lawyer rode into M., bruls- ed, bleeding and dirty. i “Hello!” said a friend, meeting him. | “There must have been a runaway! | “No, sub,” replied the judge grimly, “there was no runaway, sub, but there would have been if I could have got loose, suh!” His tenant was arrested and tried for assault and battery. Of course Judge Shirley was the principal wit- ness. “What did you say to this man, Judge Shirley?" demanded the attor ney who appeared for the tenant. “Well. sr™."” returned the judge evasively, he falsified, and I called his attention to it, sub!” “But what did you say?” insisted the lawyer. At last, cornered and forced to: answer directly, the old judge replied: “Well, your honah,” turning from his “your honah, | may as well admit that I used the common American tuhm.”— | Youth's Companion. KEEPING AN ENGAGEMENT. Garrett Made a Mighty Effort to Be on Time Just Once. The late Edmund Garrett, a brilliant journalist and one time assistant edi- tor of the Pall Mall Gazette, was a man whom other men loved. Butalong with his virtues he had an extensive list of peculiarities, some of which are humorously exploited in a blography by E. T. Cook. Garrett had no idea of time, and he used to get into some trouble at the office of the Gazette for that reason. “This must stop,” he said to me, "and matters must be mended.” A day or two afterward an invitation came from the proprietor to dinner. Edmund said that at any rate there must be no doubt about this entertainment and bis punctual attendance thereat, and 9 good deal of fuss was made about get ting ready for it. Shirts were looked out, white ties | and dress clothes were overhauled and | all the resources of our establishment | brought into requisition, so that the | appearance of the guest should do jus- | long before that time Edmund was ar. | rayed in spotless raiment, starting out i |] tice to the host. Dinner was at 8, and | | in good time to get to dinner. I stayed, reading, in the flat. After about half an hour | heard somebody coming up the stairs and 1 heard to my amazement the latchkey put into the lock. The door opened, and in came Edmund, with a face ashy pale. He took off his hat and threw it on the floor and said: ' “Hang it, old man, I've muddled it again! It was last Wednesday!” Sun or Heat as Maker of Baldness. The fact that savages almost always possess fine crops of hair, taken with the fact that they do not wear bats. has led some people to belleve that go ing bareheaded might be a preventive article quoted by the Medical Record points out that the action of the sun's rays upon the head Is injurious not only to the hair, but to the whole sys- tem, overinduligence in sun baths caus- ing {irritability and nervous cardiac and circulating disturbances and le sions of the skin that are often serious But it is pointed out that the tight hatband constricts circulation in the arteries and veins of the head, and. as the Medical Record says, it Is © moot point whether this be not as) harmful to the hair as are the actinic | rays of the sun. Many Manias, At a recent congress of neurology a paper was read in which the move- ment by which the growing lad caress es the first shoots on his upper lip was labeled moustachiostrepsomanin; the habit of twirling the cane seen in old drum majors, strepsorhabdomania. that of putting the little finger into the ear, otodactylomania. Then we have “stomatodactylomaniacs,” who put the finger into the mouth: “onychophago maniacs,” who bite their nails; “har monlomaniacs,” who drum with their fingers on windowpanes or tables, and “trepodomaniacs,” who nervously move their legs. — British Medical Journal. His Harvest Season, Teacher—Now, Earlie. tell us when is the harvest seson. Earlie—From November to March.